


It's a Long Way Home (When You're On Your Own)

by clotpolesonly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Homeless Theo Raeken, M/M, Post-Canon, Prostitute Theo Raeken, Protective Scott, Public Blow Jobs, Scott Wants To Help, the fact that that is not a standard tag already needs to be remedied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: “I didn’t, like, come looking for you,” Scott finally managed. “I just caught your scent over at the…”At the gas station. Aroundbehindthe gas station, where all the most questionable smells were concentrated. The ones Scott had opted not to examine too closely. He still wasn’t sure that he wanted to.Instead, he blurted out, “Are you living in your car?”Theo’s pink cheeks grew pinker. His sharp eyes narrowed dangerously. “No, Scott, I’m putting myself up at the Hilton with the fortune I have in the bank.”It was Scott’s turn to flush.
Relationships: Scott McCall/Theo Raeken
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78
Collections: Sceo Week 2020





	It's a Long Way Home (When You're On Your Own)

**Author's Note:**

> sooooo CJ and Demon were lamenting the lack of prostitute!Theo fics in this fandom, and thus was born this fic. just in time for the very last day of Sceo Week!! this may or may not end up with more chapters. i've been told it stands well on its own, but also i have more thoughts, lol. so we'll see.
> 
> ps. yes i am aware that this isn't necessarily how gas stations work, i just didn't have time (and also can't be bothered) to rework the entire opening scene around it lmao. be a dear and just go with it, kthnxbai

Scott pulled his bike into the filling station and kicked down the stand. His nose scrunched up against the overpowering scent as soon as his helmet was off, but he was used to that by now. He set the gas to pumping, fished a twenty out of his pocket, and headed for the attendant inside. 

A different scent hit him as soon as he opened the door. Something familiar, sort of sharp and metallic. Not one of his own pack, but definitely someone he knew, even if it was faint enough that he couldn’t bring a face to mind.

Somebody coughed pointedly behind him. Scott hastily slid out of the doorway to let the woman pass, meeting her glare with a sheepish smile. He paid for his gas and exited in a rush, but he couldn’t stop himself from pausing again just outside the door to take a deep breath.

The scent led around the side of the building. With a quick glance to make sure that nobody had absconded with his bike and the tank wasn’t overflowing or anything, Scott followed it. He didn’t find the person the scent belonged to, though it was a little stronger around the back, just an empty patch of dirty concrete. There were other smells too, far less pleasant ones that Scott made the conscious decision not to catalogue.

His phone buzzed in his pocket: a text from Stiles, requesting his presence in exactly one hour for copious amounts of video games because they, for once, both had an evening free of other obligations. Scott was happy enough to text back in the affirmative. He turned back toward the filling stations; he had things to drop off at home if he was going to be spending the afternoon at Stiles’ instead.

He was fully prepared to put all thoughts of the mystery scent behind him—it wasn’t like he didn’t have hundreds of acquaintances, all of whose scents he would probably recognize if he happened upon them; running into one at a gas station wasn’t exactly cause for concern—but he caught another whiff of it as he passed the filling station next to his and, damn it, it was _right on the tip of his tongue._

It wasn’t easy to follow the scent trail of a person in a moving vehicle, but there was just enough of it here for Scott to be pretty sure they’d had their window down. With a glance around to make sure no one was watching, Scott took some less than discrete sniffs. When he thought he had a grasp on it, he followed the faint trail around the filling stations and to the main road.

He was lucky. If the trail had gone more than a block away, Scott’s better judgment would’ve put its foot down and made him give up his pursuit as not worth the effort, but as soon as Scott reached the sidewalk and looked to the left, he spotted a familiar blue truck parked at a meter just down the street.

It didn’t look like there was anyone inside, but by the time Scott reached it, he could hear a heartbeat. A glance through the back window found Theo in the backseat of the cab, curled up tight, head resting on what might’ve been a backpack and a coat pulled over him and tucked up under his chin.

Maybe Scott was heavier on his feet than he’d thought, or maybe Theo was just such a light sleeper that even Scott’s heartbeat and breathing were enough to disturb him. It was only a few seconds before Theo was stirring, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he searched for whatever had woken him.

When he figured it out, he jolted upright fast enough to knock his head against the ceiling. Cursing, he threw the coat off and hastily clambered out the far door. By the time he rounded the vehicle, his cheeks were pink but his expression was under control. He eyed Scott cautiously.

“How did you find me?” he asked.

Scott opened his mouth, then closed it. Theo crossed his arms over his chest, shifting on his feet. His hair was something of a mess, longer than when Scott had seen him last—a few weeks ago? Maybe a month? Scott wasn’t even sure—and he had fabric creases pressed into his left cheek. That didn’t stop him from raising an expectant eyebrow.

“I didn’t, like, come _looking,_ ” Scott finally managed. “I just caught your scent over at the…”

At the gas station. Around _behind_ the gas station, where all the most questionable smells were concentrated. The ones Scott had opted not to examine too closely. He still wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

Instead, he blurted out, “Are you living in your car?”

Theo’s pink cheeks grew pinker. His sharp eyes narrowed dangerously. “No, Scott, I’m putting myself up at the Hilton with the fortune I have in the bank.”

It was Scott’s turn to flush.

In the weeks since the Anuk-Ite’s defeat and Monroe leaving town, Scott hadn’t thought to wonder where Theo had disappeared to. They’d barely heard from him since. If anyone had asked, Scott probably would’ve assumed that Theo had left town too. Scott wouldn’t have blamed him; Beacon Hills wasn’t a place that anyone had particularly fond memories of.

But he had been here this whole time. Right here, maybe. Or, okay, probably not _right_ here, if only because the local cops were no more tolerant of the homeless than they were anywhere else. Maybe that was why Theo was such a light sleeper, because he was used to getting woken up and chased off like there would be some other part of town where it was more acceptable to be.

The thought sat heavy in Scott’s stomach, feeling very close to guilt, though he was pretty sure it wasn’t something that he had a reason to feel guilty for. Theo wasn’t even in his pack, much less someone that Scott should feel directly responsible for.

That did not stop Scott from asking, “Do you need—”

He wasn’t sure what, exactly, he was about to offer. Money or a place to stay, maybe. Isaac had stayed with Scott for a long time, after all, before he’d taken off with Chris. It wouldn’t be _that_ weird, would it? 

But in the end it didn’t matter. Theo didn’t even let him finish the question.

“What do you want, Scott?”

“Nothing! I was just—”

“What?” Theo demanded. “Checking up on me? Making sure I’m not causing trouble?” He shrugged, apparently unconcerned. “Well, you don’t have to worry. I’m staying out of everybody’s hair. You’re welcome.”

Scott dragged his fingers through his hair with a huff. “No, Theo, that’s not what I— I just thought that you might need some—”

“I don’t need your money.”

His tone was dangerous, posture tense, and Scott threw out his arms.

“Well, how are you making yours then? Do you have a job or something? Because trucks like these don’t exactly get great gas mileage.”

Theo laughed, a sharp sound that made Scott’s stomach clench in an uncomfortable way. “There are always people willing to pay.”

“Pay for what?”

He smiled tightly. “For whatever you offer them.”

Scott thought of that patch of concrete, hidden away from prying eyes and security cameras. Of the scents there, musty and bitter and stale. He thought of Theo on his knees, _offering,_ and some faceless trucker with cash to spare taking him up on it.

“Theo—”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

As if on cue, Scott’s phone beeped. Another text from Stiles, this one asking him to pick up a two-liter of Ssprite on his way over. Suddenly, a big part of Scott wanted to blow the whole night off—he didn’t know how he would be able to play video games like it was a normal Thursday night, knowing what he now knew—but the hardness in Theo’s face said that his question had been more of an order.

Scott tucked his phone back in his pocket and thumbed over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said. “I should probably get back to my bike. Before it gets stolen or towed or something.”

“Yeah. You do that,” Theo said. “I’ve only got a half hour left on my meter.”

 _I could fix that,_ Scott didn’t say. Instead: “Sleep well, I guess.”

Theo was already climbing back into his truck, but Scott heard his disbelieving snort loud and clear.

* * *

Scott threw himself down on the couch, his helmet clunking onto the floor at his feet. “You should’ve _seen_ him, Stiles. He’s been living in his car! It’s pitiful!”

Stiles didn’t even look up from the pile of video games he’d dug out of the entertainment center. The two of them were long overdue for some bro-time, and now that they’d finally made time for it, he clearly was not going to let Scott’s preoccupation derail him from his goal. He carefully considered GTA5, tossed it aside, and picked up CoD. It wasn’t until Scott flung out a foot to nudge him in the side that he sighed.

“So what, Scott?” he asked. “What are _you_ supposed to do about it?”

Scott grimaced. “I… _may_ have offered him some money…”

“What?” Stiles dropped the games to stare at him. “ _Scott!_ I thought you were saving up. You can’t afford to go around financing homeless people, much less a homeless _Theo._ ”

“I know, I know,” Scott moaned, slouching even further into the couch cushions and burying his face in his hands. “It’s a moot point anyway,” he said through his fingers. “He sort of told me to fuck off.”

“Yeah, go figure.”

Scott let his hands fall, trying and failing to fight off the image of Theo, messy-haired and rumpled, sneering at him like Scott’s mere presence was a threat.

“I just don’t get it,” he sighed. “He needs _help._ I can help!”

Even with his face turned away, Stiles’ eye-roll was obvious. “What don’t you get, Scott?” he asked as he picked a game at random to shove into the console with a little more force than was probably necessary. “Nobody likes being a charity case. You didn’t exactly appreciate being offered handouts either, last I checked.”

Scott frowned. “Maybe not,” he allowed, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t _take_ them if I really need to.”

Like if he was without a roof over his head, struggling to put gas in the car he was living in. If he didn’t have enough money to _eat_ at least once a day. If he was literally _selling his body_ on street corners—or behind disgusting gas stations, as the case might be—just to survive. Those seemed like situations where accepting help would be pretty reasonable.

Stiles was shaking his head, though. “Yeah, well, some people’s pride is too easily wounded for that. And, yes,” he added, with a bitter smile, “my name is on that list.”

He booted up the console and snatched up the controllers, dropping one in Scott’s lap as he joined him on the couch. Scott chewed on his lip, tapping restlessly at the buttons as they waited for the game to load. Stiles was tense beside him. Ironically, a tense Stiles was _less_ fidgety than a relaxed Stiles, but either way, this was not the kind of relaxing bro-time they’d been hoping for.

But that didn’t mean that Scott could let it go.

“I just don’t like him out there in the cold,” he had to say. “Especially not this time of year. I wish he would let me help.”

Stiles was quiet for a while longer, jaw clenched tight. But a sidelong glance at Scott’s miserable face cracked him. The tension drained out of him in a rush, accompanied by a huff of exasperation—with himself, probably, for being such a pushover whenever Scott was upset about something—and he nudged his shoulder against Scott’s.

“Personally, I wish you would let the little prick freeze to death,” he said. “But, since that’s not really your shtick…” He turned soft eyes on Scott, ones that had nothing to do with Theo’s predicament and everything to do with knowing how helpless he knew Scott felt in the face of it. “Buddy, you just gotta accept it, okay? Theo’s not gonna take _shit_ from you or anyone else. Not unless he feels like he’s earned it.”

With that, he hoisted his controller and started clicking through the menus, their game night officially begun. There was nothing for Scott to do but follow his lead because he was _right._ No matter how much Scott wanted to _fix things,_ he just couldn’t. Not this time. Theo was way too proud to accept anything from him.

…Unless he _earned it._

* * *

Scott had a hundred dollars in his pocket and an idea that might get him punched.

He might deserve to get punched, to be honest. It wasn’t exactly his favorite idea that he’d ever had, and if he could think of _any_ other way that would work, he would be all over it. But here he was, driving through the outskirts of downtown, helmet off and nose in the air, searching for Theo’s scent, with one idea and one idea only.

He had to try.

He finally caught a whiff of Theo near the old abandoned mall. The parking meters still worked there, but it was a sparsely populated area that didn’t get frequent patrols. Probably good for a few hours of solid sleep. Scott didn’t want to interrupt that if he could help it, but he also couldn’t convince himself to do this in the daylight hours.

He was in luck. Or maybe Theo had just heard him coming; his bike wasn’t exactly quiet, especially to supernatural ears. Either way, Theo was waiting by the time Scott pulled up alongside his truck, leaning back against it with his legs kicked out in front of him and crossed at the ankle.

“Can’t say you weren’t looking for me this time,” he said.

“No,” Scott agreed. He clambered off his bike and stuffed a hand in his pocket to check one more time that the bills were still there. “I definitely was.”

Like last time, Theo crossed his arms tight and asked, “What do you want?”

Unlike last time, Scott had an answer. “Whatever you’re offering.”

Confusion overtook Theo’s suspicion, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing even further. Scott steeled himself, hoping his nerves weren’t as obvious as they probably were, and pulled out the small stack of money.

As soon as he saw it, Theo’s scent spiked with anger. “I told you,” he spat. “I don’t need your—”

“It’s not charity,” Scott cut in. “I mean, I’m not just giving it to you.” His palms were sweaty but his mouth was dry. His swallow clicked loudly in the quiet of the empty street. “Last time, you said there are always people willing to pay for whatever you offer them. Well, I can pay.” He held the money up. “So…what can you offer me?”

The dawn of realization on Theo’s face was slow. He glanced back and forth between the money and Scott’s face several times before his eyes went wide, his scent staticky with shock. In a weird way, it was gratifying; with how hard he worked to predict and manipulate everyone around him, Theo was not an easy person to surprise.

The moment didn’t last long. Theo’s open mouth snapped shut, wide eyes narrowing again, and he let his crossed arms fall. He pushed himself off the truck in a fluid motion that brought him right into Scott’s personal space. The night was cold, but Theo radiated heat, enough for Scott to feel it even though they weren’t touching. He fought the instinct to step back. Or move closer.

Theo’s gaze traced over Scott’s face, sizing him up. When he met Scott’s eyes again, he gave a slow, syrupy sweet smile and said, in a far different tone than he’d ever said it before, “What do you _want?_ ”

It sounded practiced. It _looked_ practiced, right down to the careful slouch of Theo’s shoulders, making him seem shorter than he was so that he was looking up at Scott through the delicate fan of his eyelashes. Everything about it, like with so much else Theo had done since he’d come back into Scott’s life, was calculated for maximum impact. It was a _seduction,_ an enticement, and the worst part was just how effective it was. Even knowing that it was an act wasn’t enough to stop the little thrill of heat that ran down Scott’s spine when Theo bit his bottom lip and let it slide back out slowly, red and spit-slick.

Scott couldn’t look away, but he managed to shake his head. “You know what I really want.”

Theo ignored him in favor of laying a hand on Scott’s chest. He tapped his fingers there, humming thoughtfully, before letting those fingers walk their way downward. They hovered over the button of his jeans, toying with it, knuckles brushing teasingly against Scott’s belly.

“Does Malia know you’re here?” Theo asked, casual enough to be pointed.

“Wouldn’t matter if she did,” Scott said. Theo hooked a finger into his waistband and Scott’s breath hitched. “Even if we were still together—which we’re not—we weren’t really like that.”

Theo hummed again. He popped the button.

Scott wanted to point out that they were in the middle of the sidewalk, right out in the open where anyone who happened past could see. But he couldn’t hear anyone around, even when he extended his senses to their limits. Even the cars occasionally rumbling past on the main road sounded distant. And a big part of Scott was afraid that speaking up now would make Theo change his mind and call the whole thing off. The moment felt fragile, balanced on a knife’s edge, like one wrong word could send it falling and shatter it.

The sound of Scott’s zipper being lowered was painfully loud. Theo was slow about it, too. Deliberate. The satisfied quirk of his lips said plainly that he could hear the way Scott’s heart beat faster with every _snick-snick-snick._ Scott’s fist clenched tighter around the bills still in his hand. They were probably a crumpled, sweaty mess already, but he needed _something_ to hold onto.

Besides, it didn’t hurt to have a reminder of why this was happening. Of what he had come here to do. Of what this _was,_ and what it _wasn’t._

Theo’s hand was startlingly hot. Even through the fabric of his boxers, it burned, and Scott couldn’t help the noise that escaped him. Theo’s smirk grew. He cupped Scott’s hard-on—not stroking or squeezing, just holding it in the palm of his hand—and let his thumb skate over Scott’s happy trail, catching and pulling in a way that sent shivers through him.

Abruptly, the hand retreated. He didn’t have long to miss it. A second later, Scott found himself turned around and pressed up against the truck, leaning back against it like Theo had been when he’d arrived. Before he could even process their reversed positions, Theo was on his knees.

The sight of Theo like that, kneeling and looking coyly up at him, brought flashes of the gas station back into Scott’s mind. How many times had Theo been in this position there? How many other men had he knelt for, and did he always smile for them just like this?

Hot hands slid up Scott’s thighs. Fingers hooked into his belt loops, tugging his jeans down until they were bunched up around his knees. He reached out with his hearing again, just to make absolutely sure that no one was around to see, but his paranoia was interrupted by Theo’s mouth on him.

A strangled “ _fuck_ ” was punched out of him as Theo tongued the base of his dick through his boxers, his spit molding the fabric to the flesh beneath.

Theo laughed, breath ghosting coolly across the wetness he’d left behind. “That costs extra.”

Scott didn’t have a chance to let those words sink in. Theo was mouthing at him again, getting his boxers sloppy wet, and suddenly Scott couldn’t think of _anything,_ much less process what Theo had just said. He let his head fall back against the truck window with a thunk and bit his lip against another curse.

Theo’s fingers found Scott’s fist and pried it open. Not the one with the money in it, Scott noted, for whatever that meant. His palm was marred by red crescent marks where his fingernails had dug into it. Theo ignored them and led the hand to the back of his head.

Smooth and sweet, he said, “You don’t have to hold back.”

The head of Scott’s dick had worked its way past the waistband of his boxers. Theo kissed it. Entirely of their own accord, Scott’s fingers wound themselves into Theo’s hair and _pulled._

Theo hissed, but he didn’t complain. Scott tried to scent him, to get some sort of feel for what Theo was feeling—if he was anxious or angry, miserable or in pain—but the scent of his own arousal was too strong. He didn’t dare let himself imagine that Theo was turned on too, that his pheromones were hidden underneath it all, mixing with Scott’s own. That was a stupid, wishful thought, and a dangerous one too.

He tightened his grip on the crumpled twenties in his other hand as Theo peeled his boxers down. The night air stung until Theo chased the chill away with his warm breath. He may have played coy earlier, teasing and slow, but he didn’t hesitate to swallow Scott down now.

It was strangely disorienting to have short hair between his fingers. Long enough to get a good grip on, yes, but nowhere near what he was used to from Allison, Kira, even Malia. And if that wasn’t different enough, there was a scratch of stubble that rasped against his thigh every time Theo bottomed out, rough and new and amazing.

A growl was trapped in Scott’s throat, chest rumbling with the force of it as he fought against the urge to buck into Theo’s talented mouth. _Fuck,_ he was good at this. How was he so goddamn good at this?

 _Practice,_ the part of his brain that wasn’t currently melting reminded him. This was, for all intents and purposes, Theo’s _job._ When this was over, Scott would be paying Theo for the service he was currently providing. Guilt squirmed in Scott’s gut, shouted down by the shaky logic that had led him here, and drowned out completely by the twist of Theo’s tongue.

Theo pulled off panting. A string of spit clung to his bottom lip, broken when his hand took over where his mouth left off. He ran his other hand down Scott’s thigh, fingernails digging in just enough to sting.

“I told you,” he said, voice rough, “you don’t have to hold back. You can fuck my mouth if you want. I can take it.”

“Is that what they do?” Scott heard himself ask.

Theo’s perpetual smirk faltered. His hand didn’t stop moving, though, tight grip working Scott over with long, steady pulls that had his toes curling in his sneakers. Scott untangled his fingers from Theo’s hair before he could give into the temptation to pull on it again. He slid them, instead, down the column of Theo’s exposed throat. He could feel the way Theo swallowed against his palm.

Scott’s thumb settled itself on the hinge of Theo’s jaw, tracing the line of it. Theo’s fist kept its rhythm through the exploration and his gaze was steady on Scott’s, but the second Scott’s gentle touch found his bottom lip, he jerked away.

Scott pulled his hand back, apologies on the tip of his tongue, though he didn’t quite know what to apologize _for._ All he knew was that it was the first time Theo had averted his eyes since this whole thing had started.

He didn’t get any words out. Before he could, Theo took him in again, fast and deep like he was making up for lost time. He pushed forward until he gagged, his nose buried in the coarse hair at the base of Scott’s dick, and held himself there as his throat convulsed around the head. By the time he let up, Scott was cursing again, fingers scrabbling at the smooth surface behind him for something to hold onto. He hoped his claws weren’t out—he didn’t want to scratch the paint—but he didn’t have the focus to check.

Everything was wet heat and tight suction and the too-loud sound of Theo’s throat working in the silence of the empty street. Scott bit down on his fist to muffle his own noises, knees shaking as Theo hollowed out his cheeks and _sucked._ He sucked, and he sucked, and he didn’t stop until Scott was tipping over the edge into the kind of orgasm that made him think he might actually die from it.

He came back to himself slowly, cold air stinging his lungs as his chest heaved. His head was fuzzy and empty, heart pounding, limbs like jelly. It took all his strength not to let himself slide down the truck’s chassis and collapse on the sidewalk. That was a very appealing prospect.

Something tapped on the back of his hand. Scott forced his eyes open and looked down to find Theo still on his knees, spit-slick lips parted around his own rough breaths, tugging at the bills clutched in Scott’s fist.

“I think these are mine,” Theo said.

“Yeah.” Scott forced his hand to release them. “Yeah, you, uh…you earned it.”

He watched as Theo pushed himself to his feet, brushing the dirt off his knees with one hand and wiping his mouth with the back of the other. It occurred to Scott that, with the lack of mess, Theo must have swallowed. He wondered if Theo did that for all his clients. Then he wondered what it said about him that he was wondering that.

Theo was counting the money. If he noticed or cared that the bills were wrinkled and sweaty, he didn’t let on. Scott’s hand felt weirdly cold now without them. So did the rest of him, actually, without Theo pressed up against him.

Suddenly aware of the wide open space all around them—a public sidewalk, _fuck,_ did they really just do that here?—Scott hastened to tuck himself back into his jeans. The zipper was just as loud going up as it had been coming down and Scott glanced up to find Theo watching him.

“What?” Scott asked.

Theo shook his head, face unreadable. “Nothing.” He tucked the bills into his own pocket.

Scott bit his lip. He felt like he should _say_ something, but nothing sounded right in his head. What was he _supposed_ to say in this situation? Nothing in his life had prepared him for it, and he honestly hadn’t thought this far ahead when he’d made the plan. Theo didn’t seem eager to make conversation either, but that left them with a very loaded silence hanging in the air.

Before it could stretch into something painful, Scott’s eyes fell on the parking meter. He remembered Theo’s parting words from last time, about only having so much time and the implication that Scott had been wasting it. He dug into his jacket pocket for as many quarters as he could find, which was a surprisingly large amount; apparently he needed to check his pockets more often. Counting them out, he found about four dollars’ worth. Enough for two or three hours, if Scott remembered the rate correctly.

He held out the handful of change. Theo squinted down at it with the most genuinely confused look Scott had ever seen on his face.

“For the meter,” Scott said.

Theo glanced at the meter in question, then back at Scott, his expression unchanged. “The meters stop charging at midnight.”

Scott hadn’t known that, but he wasn’t about to be deterred. He took Theo’s hand in his own, resolutely dumping the quarters into it, and said, “For tomorrow, then. Call it a tip if you want.”

Theo eyed the four dollars in change dubiously. The corner of his mouth pulled up just a bit, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or not. “That’s a pitiful tip.”

Scott shrugged.

Eventually, Theo dumped the change in his pocket with the bills. “As fun as this has been, Scott…”

“Right.”

Scott slid out from between Theo and the truck, relieved to find that his legs had regained some of their stability. His bike was waiting patiently right where he’d left it and Scott swung himself onto it before throwing another look back at Theo. His arms were crossed again. From cold or discomfort, Scott couldn’t tell. 

“Okay, well…” Scott cleared his throat. “Goodnight. I guess.”

Theo raised a very judgmental eyebrow at him and Scott figured it was time to cut his losses. After all, he’d made it this far without getting punched. He didn’t want to push his luck any harder than he already had. Theo had money in hand, and that was what Scott had come here to achieve. By all accounts, his ludicrous plan had been a success.

That didn’t explain the heaviness in Scott’s stomach, or why he turned to look back one more time before he turned the corner.

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable promo on tumblr!](https://clotpolesonly.tumblr.com/post/625988470145515520/its-a-long-way-home-when-youre-on-your-own)


End file.
